


We'll Weather This Storm

by wickedgal08



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Supernatural - Freeform, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 19:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedgal08/pseuds/wickedgal08
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm done getting pushed around, Damon, and I have to figure out how to have a voice again. But before that I need to deal with everything that's happened tonight. I need to break down like a human, before I can rise again like a witch." Bonnie and Damon share a moment outside the hospital, as they wait for news on Elena. Set post 3x22.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We'll Weather This Storm

He's probably discarded at least one bottle of Bourbon...maybe two, it's really hard to say at this point.

Under a dark sky, with a few half-hearted streaks of grey [clouding](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8417364/1/We-ll-Weather-This-Storm) the moon and stars, he waits there, like a lost puppy, unsure how to even process the events which have taken hold. One moment, he remembers being pummelled to the ground by former best friend Alaric, and the next he's trying to shake the life back into him, because he knows he cannot let the life there slip away without knowing that someone else's life hangs in the balance too.

He knows she's awake, and refusing to leave the hospital. He can still hear her crying from here, unable to leave because she knows leaving here will make it all real. He tries to block it out – god knows, he's  _tried –_  but she's gotten in and under his skin, and he doesn't' know how to even detach himself from her, even if he tries.

The sound of [tires](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8417364/1/We-ll-Weather-This-Storm) screeching pulls him to attention, and he's suddenly aware that something shoots past him, determined to get in, but his arms wrap around the figure, holding them back, because though he's an insensitive  _prick_ at the best of times, he knows nobody is going to make things any easier trying to intervene with the situation, and, really, he's making one last pathetic stab at trying to [win](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8417364/1/We-ll-Weather-This-Storm) Elena over by hoping if he leaves her alone enough, maybe she'll be grateful, and...

_Fuck._

He doesn't know what he even wants out of this.

"Let go of me, or I swear I'll give you an aneurysm so bad, it'll have you writhing for weeks," challenges Bonnie, constantly trying to ram her head back in order to knock him off guard (quite literally).

"Easy, Bonnie. I'm not going to hurt you!" he snaps, in a tone that suggests quite the opposite.

She stops for half a beat, turning around so rapidly, he is forced to back away, the faint burst of moonlight highlighting the frozen tears clinging to her cheeks. The darkness clouding her normal spark of determination in her eyes threatens to linger there forever, and he wonders whether she can read the same anger and despair in his own face that he can read in hers.

"Elena - " she gets out, her voice breaking at that particular moment.

"She's in transition, Bonnie. She'll be fine."

 _No, she won't,_ he thinks bitterly,  _but neither will the rest of us._

"Fine?" Bonnie looks set to wage war based on his poor choice of words. "She won't be  _fine_ , Damon! How can you be so pig-headed, even in a time like this?"

"First of all, come talk a walk with me, you're obviously over-emotional." He takes her arm, not too roughly, and coerces her (only slightly) into talking a walk with him away from the hospital, where certain voices might overhear. "Secondly, I haven't the time, or the desire actually, to be sensitive in a situation like this. I thought Elena was dead. She's not. Can we all just take a moment and  _appreciate_ that fact?!"

Bonnie grinds her jaw, looking like she's about to argue, and he can't really blame her, but there's something else bothering her here too. He notices in the way she clenches her firsts, and the way she folds her arms tight against her chest, as if she's holding a secret there she daren't unload.

He's never quite known where to stand with her. He doesn't agree with her  _kill-all-vampires_ policy, and he knows she's been itching to just terminate the entire damn species, because why should she clean up their damn messes, but he does respect her for having her principles, even if he doesn't admit it aloud (and never will).

"I should've let the two of you die in that fire," she murmurs, turning away, and it's the first time he's ever felt like her guard is even somewhat lowered around him, because though he's known she's thought about this before, the fact she's saying it aloud proves she's tired of fighting, of putting up this façade, of saving the bad guys over and over just because they moonlight as good guys (that's Stefan's area, not his). "I shouldn't have – Everything bad that has happened is because of you."

He doesn't say anything, not at first.

They are both in hell right now, so she has the right to unload whatever truth has been crushing her heart on him, and he has not got the right to make her be quiet. He has a pounding headache from the alcohol, and the tears, and he's pretty sure he's experiencing double vision from time to time, but the part about hell everyone seems to forget about is that once you're in, it's impossible to get out. It stays with you, surrounding you with mile high flames that burn and scorch, marking you in ways that might as well say you're hell's bitch.

"Do you ever think about letting her die sometimes?" he suddenly asks, the question catching both of them off guard.

"What?" she demands, her face whitening a shade, but he can see she's only putting up this defensive mode to hide the fact she has.

"Elena is..." he rolls his eyes at having to repeat himself, "a special girl. No denying that. You'd have to be, to wear Katherine's face and not have a damn selfish bone in your body. But...I'm tired. Of moving heaven and earth to save her. Sometimes I wonder if that makes me a bad person."

"It doesn't make you a bad person, Damon. Killing innocent people makes you a bad person," she chars out, rubbing her brow, her shoulders slumped. "But yes, I've considered it. Not for very long, because I'm not that person, but I get tired, like anyone would, of being the ultimate weapon you all seem to use without question, like maybe magic doesn't still wear me down, makes me emotionally exhausted. I don't complain because who can I complain to? You all are as guilty as the next for using me, but I can't find it in me to hate anybody for that."

"You're a damn martyr, Bonnie Bennett, you know that right?" he chuckles drily.

She shrugs.

"Label it how you will. I've been honest with you, now you be honest with me." She bites her lip, and he never really knew before how damn cute that really looks, giving her a vulnerable side he's not seen since before she embraced her magic. "I want to know what the hell ran through your mind when you decided to turn Abby, and please spare me that crap about the fact that turning her was the lesser of two evils." She looks at him squarely. "You could've turned or killed me, and you would've been rid of the one person in this town who would kill you without hesitation if it came down to it. So why? Why did you spare me the fate you gave to Abby?"

He figures he could give her the easy explanation, but it would be a lie, because as much as he tries to pretend he values Elena's opinion on him, it doesn't mean anything anymore when she's led him on a merry dance, only to cut him fatally with that remark about always loving Stefan. So he figures maybe he owes the witch the brutal truth, just on this one occasion.

"I considered it," he tells her. "You were never my biggest fan, and yeah, I can't pretend I'm a fan of the fun way you set my brain on fire from time to time, but I knew if I had to choose, I'd rather have turned your mother, and face your eternal hatred, than see those fiery eyes close forever. I know you think you're unappreciated, but you have a...sort of...fan in me." He smiles, but they both know it's forced. "I don't give a damn about three quarters of the people in this town, and we both know that. Elena insists on making me a better man, but I can't be that. Not for her."

"Then for who?" she asks, curiosity softening the harsh whip of her words.

He shrugs, suddenly uncomfortable because she's thrown him off his game, and he hates that.

"Maybe for you. I figure maybe if you can get past all the terrible things I've done to you to save my life time and time again, maybe I can get past going on a murderous rampage from time to time."

She gazes at him critically, clearly not believing these words are coming out of his mouth. And who can blame her? He's never professed to have a deeper side, although he will concede his side always softens around people he cares about, and then inevitably hardens when they do something to piss him off, which doesn't take too long to happen in a town this full of drama.

Bonnie has always been an enigma to him; she's always passionate about helping her friends, and never really been vague about where she draws the line in helping. And they all push her. They push her to her limits, and sometimes they forget that.

Difference is he's staring at the shell of a broken girl right now, one whose friends are all turning rapidly into the creatures she loathes beyond belief, and he's finding himself drawn to her in ways he cannot explain.

They are both outcasts, in a strange way, and both because of outward forces they cannot control. He knows the more magic she uses – the more she pushes her boundaries – the more darker magic will tempt her. This he knows because of long hours of labour poring over old texts, trying to learn about witchcraft as much as he can. He's heard about rogue witches – in other words, witches who have become so consumed by their power, and what they can do with it, that they abandon their duty to nature and pursue a course of (inevitable) self-destruction.

He doesn't want to see her go down that road, and it's not because he's terrified of what she'll do. It's that he's terrified he knows he'll do whatever it takes to stop her...not stopping short of murder.

"Let me ask you something," he says, genuinely curious. "When was the last time you did something for you?"

"Magic wise?"

"No. I mean  _anything._ Something simple even. Something that wasn't tainted by an action made for someone else."

She thinks.

The amount of time in between him asking that question, and her answering it, is frightening. Worrying.

And then a worrying look of calm settles across her face. Despite the severity of the situation, an almost serene smile twists her lips, and he watches carefully as she breathes in and out slowly (like she's expelling her own personal demons), before answering.

"You wanna know the last thing I did for myself? I made sure that son-of-a-bitch, Klaus, didn't die. I made him possess Tyler's body. And it wasn't because I wanted to make sure all my friends didn't die. Sure, that was a part of it, but the main reason was because I wanted to piss off everybody who believes they can tell me what to do." Her smile curves just a little; she's walking a fragile line here, between sanity and insanity, between life and death. "I'm stronger than anyone here will ever believe, but sometimes, I break. And when I break, no one seems to see me. They only see me when I'm strong, when I can  _help_ them, and I'm tired of it. So maybe we have more in common than I first believed, Damon. We've both been worn ragged by the people who claim to love us."

He watches her, genuinely wary, and the darkness seems to complete shadow her face. He wonders if he's about to watch her physically break down in front of him, but then, just like that, the shadow disappears, leaving behind a worn and broken girl in its place.

"You really saved Klaus' miserable life?" he says, suddenly loathing the fact he's alive for what it's doing to this soldier in front of him.

Because that's what she is. A soldier. She carries most of the weight, most of the burden, and she doesn't break. She might stagger a little, but in the end, she's the one who wins the war.

And he's suddenly awestruck by the realisation that there might just be an attraction there that might never have existed before, but before he can even address that, they both have some issues that need to be tended to, like weeds hovering in old gardens, clinging to the familiar, never daring to grow on their own.

"Yes I did." She doesn't even look remorseful. "And I would do it again in a heartbeat. I'm done getting pushed around, Damon, and I have to figure out how to have a voice again. But before that I need to deal with everything that's happened tonight. I need to break down like a human, before I can rise again like a witch."

He nods curtly, understanding.

"You want me to drive you back?"

_I can't be here. I can't be a privacy to hers and Stefan's happy ending. I just can't._

"I'll be fine." She gives him the tiniest of smiles. "Thanks for being honest with me, Damon. It's more than anyone's been in a long time."

And as she turns her back to head towards the hospital, he mirrors her smile, all the while thinking maybe he's underestimated her, and that when push comes to shove, he's going to want that girl on his side.

No – scratch that. He can't call her that anymore.

He's going to want that  _woman_ on his side.


End file.
